Hilarious Wizarding Tales You Won't Ever Forget
by ellieeeee22134
Summary: Voldemort has always wanted to be a fashion designer. Snape has a 'serious' conversation. Draco wants to be Harry's friend. And much, much more. It's hilarious, of course. About different wizards from their own perspectives. Their funny and embarrasing moments. All in one fanfiction. REVIEW!
1. New Friends and Fashion Trends

**So, this is my first Harry Potter fanfic, and when you're done reading, please review! I don't know if this is going to be a one-shot, tell me what you think! Please! It keeps my inspiration going! Or check out my profile for more info.  
Now, the story . . . (drumroll, please!)  
Enjoy! :)  
**

**_New Friends_**

Harry Potter was brimming with excitement.

His raven-black robes billowed behind him, and he proudly held his wand at the ready. Thanks to Hermione's spell, his glasses no longer slipped down his nose. He was ready for his first year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Oh, I do hope Scabbers made it safely," Ron fretted. "I'm not quite sure I left him enough cheese." Hermione was nearby, and she heard the whole thing. "Cheese, isn't it?" She teased. Ron's ears turned bright red, and looked away. "So what?" He muttered. "I was just going to say, I could show you a spell to make your food last for a whole day, but if you don't want my help, fine." With her chin held high, Hermione started to strut away. "No, wait!" Ron cried, racing after her.

Harry was left alone, plodding behind Hagrid towards the looming castle. The night was crisp, with cicadas buzzing and owls hooting. Harry couldn't help feeling nervous. What if he was put in Slytherin? What if—

Suddenly, a pale boy with bleached blonde hair ran up to him. He wore a crooked smile and expensive robes. "Are you a first year too?" He asked. His voice was annoying. Harry hated him instantly. "Everyone here is one. Aren't you?" Harry replied haughtily. "Are you the real Harry Potter?" The boy continued, obviously in awe. Despair burned inside Harry. At first, the fame was fabulous. Now he would've traded it off if he could have the chance.

Too many people would run up with a giddy gaze, shaking his hand viciously and slamming him with questions. "Are you the real, Harry Potter?" They would say. Or it was: "Do you have the lightening-shaped scar?"

"You aren't lying, are you? You _really are_ Harry Potter?"

"_It's Harry Potter!"_

"Marry me, Harry!"

"How did you _survive,_ Harry?"

"Can we be BFFs, Harry?"

It was enough to drive an 11 year old insane. He didn't need this much fame now. Maybe when he was older.

But _definitely,_ not now.

"So, are yeh the real Harry? You've got the glasses and everything, and oh, I see the scar!" The pale boy went on. "Well, I should introduce myself correctly. My name is Draco Malfoy. I'll be honest with you; I'm a racist. I despise gingers and mudbloods. I hate Gryffindor House. And my parents work for the man who killed your parents." He paused for a minute, then said: "Do you want to be my friend?"

**_The Newest Trend_**

Voldemort could not tear his eyes away from _this_ piece of clothing. So what if it was worn by Professor Umbridge, a.k.a ugliest woman on the planet? He _loved_ it. His father would have laughed, mocking him. "C'mon, Tom, that's ladies wear!" He would say._ It's not the type of clothing this time,_ Voldemort thought, _it was the fabric._

Ever since he was little, The Dark Lord had always wanted to be a fashion designer. Oh, the marvelous designs he would come up with! Ties with gruesome pictures, dresses with _I 3 the Dark Lord_ printed all over them . . . no one wore those anymore.

Voldemort had even customized his own clothes—now his robes were patterned with big, smiley faces of himself, with tiny words underneath: _Voldemort for World Domination!_ It was the best anyone had ever dreamed of.

So when he saw this lovely pink fabric, he needed to know where it came from.

"Why Umbridge, what a nice dress you have there! I absolutely _love_ the pink miniskirt!" Voldemort gushed. "Where did you get that _extravagant_ outfit?" Dolores fluffed her hair, a broad smile spreading across her ugly face. "Oh, I got it from _Forever 65._ Way-y better then _Forever 21,_ I tell you!" Voldemort nodded, deep in interest. "Eh, where is that exactly?" He asked. "Oh, just down the road from Hogwarts in the Muggle mall!" Umbridge replied brightly. "I've got to go now, talk to you soon!" She chirped. The professor flicked her wand, and with a pop, she was gone. "Hm . . . maybe evening gowns with that fabric . . . with my Death Eaters killing people ballooned on the front! Fantastic!" Voldemort cried, snapping his fingers in delight.

"What are you doing here, Tom?" A sudden voice asked. Voldemort's heart pounded drastically. Maybe another new fabric he was going to be introduced to? Maybe—

Meh. Voldemort's face turned sour when he saw his visitor.

Old Albus Dumbledore with his crazy ideas.

Voldemort sniffed snootily. Dumbledore had absolutely _no _fashion sense. C'mon, long, thin, purple and blue robes with beads tied to your beard? Where was the style in that? Where was Voldemort's handsome face? _When I dominate the world,_ Voldemort thought, _I'll force every wizard to print clothes with **my** face on it. Ha, that will settle this ridiculous plain black robe buisness._ A sly smile creased across his snake-like face. _That, _he decided, _is a great new trend._

"I despise your style, Dumbledore," Voldemort stated silkily. The Headmaster looked down at his outfit. "What? You don't like this? I think it's _you _without any style. Really, no offence, but your face is quite hideous."

Voldemort's boney hand grabbed a mirror. "You think?" He sneered. "Ooh, gotta touch up on makeup!" He cried. He snapped his fingers and mascara popped into his hand. With dainty strokes, Voldemort worked on his eyelashes. "Sometimes I wonder which gender you are," Dumbledore said, sighing. "Then I remember: Oh, neither!"

**_Names_**

Albus Dumbledore was in the need of good advice.

Everyone expected him to be oh-so wise and witty, but in the inside, he was just like everyone else. Clumsy. Embarrassing. Lonely. Being Headmaster was harder than anyone thought. You always had to be fair and just, it sometimes was too much. And he was confined to his office mostly, with the other annoying past Headmasters mocking him.

"Ooh, you've eaten a bird-poop flavored bean? Ha!" They would laugh. And poor Albus would just shake his head and smile weakly.

"Hello, Dumbledore." A silky voice whispered. Albus looked up, and a smile creased across his wrinkled, gentle face. "Hello, Severus. Has Sirius come yet?" He replied. Snape nodded solemnly. "He is on his way," He confirmed.

Just as he said that, the gargoyle leapt aside, and out strode Sirius Black. "Good evening," He said smoothly. His curly brown hair was draped across his shoulders, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

"Thank you for coming. Please, sit," Dumbledore continued, motioning to two chairs. His guests each chose a seat.

"Albus, I've come to warn you. The Dark Lord is rising," said Snape grimly.

"Are you serious?" Dumbledore asked.

Confusion crept across Snape's face. "I'm very sorry Albus, but I'm Severus, not Sirius."

Beside him, Sirius laughed.

**_Endless Words_**

Harry needed to talk to someone. Like a relative to confess his troubles to.  
So of course, he called on his godfather.

They sat under a shady oak tree with white cherry blossoms. It was a fine day—small breeze, lush grass, endless chatter of birds. A perfect one, in fact.

"Sirius . . . you're really pale . . . you're white." Harry started, glancing at him. Immediately, his mind screamed at him at the dumb words he'd just said. What type of sentence was that to start off a conversation?

The corner of Sirius's lip twitched into a smile. "Ah, but you see Harry, I'm Black."

Confused, Harry pressed on. "Oh, come on, stop joking!" He teased.

Beside him, his godfather raised an eyebrow. "Really, Harry. I'm Sirius." He firmly said.

**_Dancing_**

Voldemort was in a good mood. Oh, Hogwarts was crumbling, dead bodies and blood everywhere, and evil was going to take over the world! Such a wonderful day! His heart was filled with pure joy, and there was a spring to his step. His Death Eaters seemed to be in a rather glum mood, surprisingly, except a few of his actual loyal followers. Like Bellatrix.

She approached him with a mad grin, twirling her crazy, frizzy raven-black hair. "We're killing people and destroying places! OMG, this is SO FUN! We _have_ to keep going!" She squealed. "Or-I know a better thing! Let's just DEMOLISH THIS ENTIRE CASTLE!" She laughed, pressing her hands together. "So, what do you think?" With a sly grin, she twirled in endless circles, cackling.

Voldemort couldn't hold his excitement anymore, and started belting out lyrics from a Bruno Mar's song.

"AND WHEN YOU SMILE, IT'S LIKE THE WHOLE WORLD STARES FOR A WHILE!" He sang, spreading his arms. A crazy grin danced on his lips.

Everyone stared, gaping.

There was that Hermione girl, obviously disgusted. And Draco Malfoy, petrified.

Ronald Weasley was gagging. Cho Chang was covering her eyes. Proffessor McGonagall looked as if she were to puke.

"What is wrong with you people?" Voldemort snarled. "Don't you like my singing?"

The crowd stared at him once more.


	2. A Baby Saves the Family

Writing this is really fun. Seriously. I love writing hilarious things, and well, I think this story suits that. This next chapter will be dedicated to the first 10 people who take my poll. I know, wide range, but if you ever take my poll, it gives me inspiration. :)

Now, on with the story!

Drumroll please!

Enjoy!

Don't Be a Bully

The night was silent. Harry was walking through the Forbidden Forest, and his heart beat very fast. Clenching his wand in his cold hand, he continued along, his feet crunching on the frost-bitten earth.

"Voldemort." Harry said.

"Harry." Voldemort replied, smiling cruely.

"You are worthless."

"I totally agree."

"No one likes you."

"I know, right?"

"Everyone thinks you're perfect, but you're not."

"Totes!"

Cedric Diggory frowned at the two of them. "Why are you picking on me?" He whined.

Harry shrugged. "Cause it's fun," He said.

Voldemort nodded. "What he said.

Parenting Names

Harry was delighted. His kids had grown into two fine young boys, and his daughter was just as beautiful as her mother.

One day, he pulled everyone together for a family meeting.

"We are discussing names today," He announced.

His three kids raised their eyebrows. "Really, Dad?" His oldest whined. "Yeah! What's so special about names?" His daughter chimed in.

"Quiet down you three. Listen to your father," Ginny soothed.

Harry cleared his throat.

"James Sirius Potter, I named you after my father, who sacrificed himself for your mother and I. 'Sirius' comes from my godfather, who I admired greatly and saved my life." James shrugged, but smiled.

"Lily Luna Potter," Harry continued grandly, "I named you after my mother, who protected me through her love. Your middle name comes from one of my friends, who taught me to embrace my differences."

His third child looked up.

"Albus Severus Potter," Harry said with a flourish, "You were named after my Headmaster who dedicated his life for the good of wizard kind. And Snape, a Slytherin, the bravest man I ever knew." Albus brightened.

"All three of you were named after the most important figures of my life." Harry concluded.

"Daddy?" said Lily softly.

"Yes dear?" Harry replied.

"Can I ask a question?" Lily asked.

"Why of course! Fire away!" Harry chuckled.

"How come non of us were named after what Mommy wanted?" Lily questioned.

There was a silence in the dining room.

"Yeah, Dad, why not?" Asked James. Albus agreed.

Harry was feeling very uncomfortable. "Ummm…."

"Hmm, I've never thought of that!" Ginny announced and then glanced curiously at her husband. "Yes Harry, how come I never got to choose any names?"

Harry tried to put on a brave face and chortle softly. "What, did you want Lily to be named 'Molly Arthur Potter'?"

"I actually kind of like that!" Ginny said happily.

"Mommy, no-way ho-zay am I changing my name to THAT! I like my name JUST FINE." Lily cried.

James and Albus agreed.

"Fine," Ginny grumbled.

Risks

"Harry, no way you're going to fly that thing!" Hermione cried. Her hazel colored eyes were wild, and her chestnut-brown hair was more bushed up than usual. "You could get killed! Really, I know Muggles say that airplanes are safe, but even I haven't been on one! What about plane-crashes? Drunk captains? Terrorist attacks on board? Disgusting meals?" She ticked off all her horrors. "You never know what could happen!" She added. Harry pressed his lips into a hard, straight line.

"I've heard so many horrible stories about plane accidents! Harry, you mustn't go on the plane!"

Harry jutted out his chin and sniffed snootily. "YOLO." He said.

Crashing Cars and Shopping Malls

Harry's heartbeat was racing a mile a minute. His throat ran dry and his glasses were foggy. Harry's hands were pale and stiff from gripping the drivers wheel. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to relax. Think cheerfulness. Sunshine. Rainbows. Lollipops. Another part of his brain said:How can you think that when you're about to crash into a dangerous tree with a flying car?!

This is it, though Harry. The end of my life.

Suddenly, as he was streaking towards the wooden bark, he saw something beautiful. Flamboyant. Flashy.

His favorite store at the mall. Payless Shoe Source.

And-oh! Those shoes, those magnificent shoes, Harry could NOT tear his eyes away! A masterpiece, those sneakers were, neon green with multi-colored laces, big and sturdy to make up for Harry's short height, dazzling rubber soles that would be soundless on the pavement. And they even came with free knee-high socks!

Oh, Harry wanted those shoes so badly, and part of him knew he'd probably never see the daylight again.

Wait...what a surprise! Ron was there, holding hands with Molly, excitedly looking at all the cool things in the shop windows. That lucky guy, thought Harry miserably.

Ron could help me, at least.

So Harry screamed the only line in his head before he would crash into the huge, big, miserable tree: "RON, ARE THOSE SHOES ON SALE?!"

Discovering New Things

Harry Potter was dirty, ragged, depressed, bleeding and feeling horrible. So many of his friends, littered around him like trash in the final battle of Hogwarts. Harry hadn't wanted this to happen. There was Lavender Brown, lifeless eyes staring right back up at Harry as if to say: This was all you fault.

Anguish burned through him.

This was all his fault. Had he and Neville not been born, Voldemort wouldn't destroy Hogwarts to find him. But yet, he told himself, if he and Neville hadn't been born, the Dark Lord's reign would have been worse than ever.

Gripping his wand tightly in his rough, calloused hands, Harry walked on, tears slipping from his eyes as he looked at all the poor bodies. Their parents … oh gods, what would he say to their parents?

Dropping his gaze, Harry continued on. He needed to find Voldemort. To end this once and for all. Too many lives had been lost, and Harry had had enough.

"Here is the boy who lived, eh?" A chilling voice said. It laughed, sending goose-bumps down Harry's spine. "Oh, look at all the poor children, all dead, but alas, it is all because of you." Lord Voldemort stepped into view, his snake-like eyes glowing. His black robes billowed around his skinny frame, and he cocked his ugly face to one side. "Maybe, if the boy who lived had...oh let's see...died, none of this would have happened."

Harry clenched his teeth. "I'm ending this, Tom. You're just a sick snake that I soon will banish from the face of this planet."

"Is that so?" Voldemort grinned. "Because I think it is the other way around."

With that, the two of them launched at each other, forgetting their wands and tackling with their hands. Voldemort gripped Harry's face with his pointy, skinny fingers. It kind of hurt.

"Let-go-" Harry choked through his squished cheeks.

Curiosity burned in Voldemort's cold, snake-like eyes.

"Wow, I never thought they would be like that . . . I must have forgotten . . ." He muttered.

"For-gotten-what?" Harry asked.

"I had forgotten human noses were shaped that way. I guess I'll just have to wear contacts when I grow old, then." Voldemort shrugged.

First Sight

Lily Potter smiled warmly as her son, Harry, climbed into her lap. He was three years old, and could stumble into broken-up sentences. (I know it's different from the book, but oh well.)

His eyes sparkled, and he played with his tousled black hair. He was perfect. The best boy she could ever wish for.

Suddenly, there was a boom, and lightning illuminated the sky. This could not be a good sign. Lily eyed the bolted door wearily.

Rain started to pound against the windows, and the house shook with the tremendous noise. Harry whimpered, and Lily hugged him close. James looked up from his newspaper, startled.

Lily bit back a scream when the door was blasted open. No. It couldn't be him. What would the Dark Lord want with them?

But, as stories go, Lily was wrong.

"Hello, my friends." Voldemort smiled cruelly, showing off his pointed teeth.

"What do you want?" James growled, drawing his wand.

"Yeah...what...do...you...want...ugly...snake...ma n?" Harry slowly said.

Voldemort leaned closer to Lily. "What did your boy say?" He hissed.

Lily was so scared, she could not find any words.

"Stay away from her!" James cried, leaping to his feet. Lily held her son as tightly as she could, terrified.

"Why...don't...you...have...a...n-nose?" Harry said in cracked sentences, furrowing his petite eyebrows.

"Is that any of your business?" Voldemort retorted, anger glinting in his eyes.

"Why...are...you...bald...do...you...have...is-iss ues?" Harry continued, in awe.

"Wha-What…" Voldemort spluttered, at the loss with words.

"Is...it...just...me...or...are...you...really...u gly?" Harry added.

"Shut up!" Voldemort muttered.

Harry glanced at Voldemorts wand, and his eyes grew round. The toddler reached forward, as quick as lightning, and snatched away the Dark Lord's weapon. Lily's breath caught in her throat.

Harry grinned, then used his tiny meaty hands to snap the wand right in half.

The wood sizzled, and Harry laughed.

"Y-You...How could you…" Voldemort stammered, then growled. "Next time, you Potters." He hissed. With that, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named drew his cloak around him, and vanished into thin air.

Her three-year old had saved their lives. For now.

**Lol, that was fun. Stay tuned by following or favoriting for furthur updates or keep my inspiration flowing by reviewing! (or-all 3!)**

***Reminder* next chapter will be dedicated to the first 10 people who take my poll. Check out my other stories as well please.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**-ellie**


	3. Harry Teaches Art Class

**This will be the last chapter, sorry. It was fun, though. Thanks for reading, following, reviewing and favoriting! It really kept me writing. Enjoy!**

Art Class

Never in Harry Potter's life did he think he'd run Hogwarts first-ever art class. He had to admit that he wasn't much of an artist when he was younger, but now, it was safe to say that he was a master. His paintings were flawless – the bright red apples looking as if they could be picked, the flowers so real it was if you could pet their delicate petals and smell their beautiful aroma.

And because of his immense talent, Harry Potter started an art class in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Never could he teach art in the Muggle world – they didn't even have magical paintbrushes! They couldn't even make the same color twice when they blended paints together! It was disgusting, really. So Harry preceded his life as an artist in the wizarding world.

This period, (a.k.a 4th period. The kids were extremely excited because of upcoming lunch,) the first years would be coming in. Harry remembered his days as a first-year. Oh, the fights he got in with Malfoy, the trouble he caused with Ron and Hermione…he smiled to himself. Good times they were, good times. First-years were his favorite batch of kids. They were just that much more curious of the art world then the rest of the school.

All at once, the bell rang and in rushed twenty kids all at once. Their cheeks were red and they were panting with exhaustion, but their eyes were still bright for learning. According to Harry, that is.

"Welcome, class. You may put down your school items." The class sighed in relief, and with a sickening _thump,_ eighty books were dropped onto the floor. (Each child carried four books.)

"Today, we shall express what we have learned so far in my class. Who can tell me, what are the three primary colors?" Harry began. One little girl, Kendra, almost knocked her desk over as she shot up into the air and waved her hand. Her eyes were round and her black hair was very bushy, and she resembled Hermione greatly. But Kendra was always the one answering questions. Harry needed someone _new_, someone he hadn't called on …

"John." He decided. "What are the three primary colors?" Kendra groaned in frustration and slumped back down into her seat. John looked down and shrugged helplessly. "Dunno," he muttered. Harry frowned. Had any of his past words reached this boy's ears?

"Anyone else?" He asked, scanning the room. Kendra's hand was still up in the air, and he'd already picked on everyone else before. The classroom was dead silent.

With a sigh, Harry said: "Kendra?"

The girl's smile reached from ear-to-ear, and she replied: "Red, yellow and green!" Harry nodded in approval. "Since at least _someone_ knows their colors …" He stated. Kendra beamed, her face literally glowing. "We will start with today's activity." All at once, the whole class straightened, including John. Smiles started to form on every child's face, and excitement glinted in their eyes. According to Harry, that is.

"Today we will delve into what we picture in our minds." Half the class frowned. Harry pretended that didn't happen, and waved his wand. All at once, the stack of papers on his desk flew up, each piece landing perfectly on a child's desk. Harry cleared his throat. "Everyone, get out your art supplies." Harry smiled. This was his favorite part of class.

_Accio_ was one of the spells he'd taught his class. Each kid whipped out their wands, then shouted: "_Accio art supplies!"_ For some, (of course, Kendra) it worked. Their bag of art supplies landed perfectly on their desks, leaving them smiling and boasting to the others. And for some, (like John,) it didn't _quite _work. Today, John had been lucky, and his bag of art supplies actually _came _into the room, but instead of landing impeccably onto his desk, it ran into his head. A dozen squeaks echoed in the room as bags of art supplies hit their owner's in the cranium. Harry sighed. Sometimes, wizards may never learn.

Once everyone managed to get hold of their things, he instructed them to take out a case of colored pencils. Everyone obeyed, ruffling through their tote bags and coming out with a box of what Harry instructed.

"When I say something, I want you to picture it in your mind and draw." Harry announced. Every head nodded, their pencils poised. "Ahem. Draw Harry Potter." Snatches of laughter flew through the class, but soon ended as they concentrated on drawing the vivid picture in their minds. Harry started to go row-through-row of desks, examining what each child drew. He smiled as he saw pictures of himself slaying Voldemort, playing Quiditch, casting spells …

When he arrived at John's desk, his feet screeched to a stop. The boy had drawn some sort of creature. "John?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows. John looked up and smiled. "Yes?"  
"Wha…What did you draw?" Harry asked with disgust.  
John beamed, saying: "What you said! Harry Potter!"  
Harry bit his lip from screaming at the kid. "You drew … what?"  
John rolled his eyes in a playful way, saying: "Let me explain. When you said 'Harry Potter', I realized it rhymed with 'hairy otter'. And I pictured this very shaggy thing, crawling around, so that's what I drew. A hairy otter."  
"What about me?" Harry asked.  
John's lips puckered. "I said I drew a _hairy otter."_  
Harry sighed inwardly. "Alright, alright." With that, he walked off, thinking: _That John really is something else._

"Now class," he started. His voice was met with eager faces. "Now I want you to draw Albus Dumbledore."  
The kids nodded enthusiastically, then bent over and started to draw. Harry could hear the marvelous sounds of pencils across paper, the sight of concentrated children…

After about two minutes, John threw down his pencil and sat there grinning like an idiot. "Well, John." Harry said under his breath. "What do you have now?"

Harry walked towards the little boy's desk and peered over his shoulder. And he saw … black and white things doing cart-wheels?  
"Ahem. John?" Harry queried.  
"Yes?"  
"What did you draw?"  
"Cows tumbling."  
"What?"  
"'Albus Dumbledore' rhymes with 'cows tumbling', so I drew _cows tumbling._"  
Harry smacked his palm across his forehead saying: "That's it, everyone. Class is dismissed."

John was a very dim child. According to Harry, that is.

**Thanks for reading! Sadly, this was my only Harry Potter fanfic ... anyway, thanks so much for following, favoriting and reviewing. This chapter is dedicated to all of you. Everyone who read this ... thank you.**

**-ellie**


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